Rosemary
by Shadow Mortifax
Summary: Her story is only briefly mentioned in 'The Giver', but it gives Jonas a way out of his community. Here is the story of the Giver's daughter, Rosemary.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Her family unit did not know about the mirror. Rosemary kept it in the back of her closet, the reflective glass pressing against the back wall. Owning a mirror wasn't against the rules, but there was very little need for one. She remembered finding it several years ago during a trip to another community when she was still a Nine. It had been too large to hide in her hand, but small enough to fit into her satchel. No one had noticed. And even if they had, they would not have said anything.

It may have been because they knew her to be different. And differences were not talked about in this community. Anything that was awkward or uncomfortable was ignored. Like her eyes. They were pale, unlike the darker shades of the other children's eyes.

_Blue_, she corrected herself quickly. Her eyes were _blue_. A few times, when she was younger, Rosemary had noticed something different about them. Sneaking glances into the small mirror before she retired for the night, Rosemary had witnessed a change that she could not describe. But now she knew what the change was. Rosemary had seen the color blue, and she was eager to see it again, now that she knew its name.

Lifting the mirror from its hiding place, Rosemary wondered how she had managed to keep it hidden for so long. Once, when she was an Eleven, she had forgotten to take one of her daily pills. CHILDREN OF AGE MUST REMEMBER TO TAKE THEIR PILLS EVERY MORNING, the Speaker had said. Her name was never mentioned, but she knew it was directed toward her. If anything was amiss in the community, it was quickly corrected. If anything was hidden, it was quickly discussed and brought to light. If anyone had seen her take the mirror, they would have said something.

Rosemary held the shiny glass to her face. There it was, in her reflection. Blue. Her almond shaped eyes flickered with the color, then returned to the pale shade of everything else around her. Rosemary shut her eyes, drawing up the memory from yesterday's training session.

Father had given her the memory of a rainbow streaking the sky after a heavy rain. And blue, he had said, lined the bottom. She saw the rainbow's vibrant colors in her mind, smelled the damp grass beneath her, felt the cool droplets of rain drizzling on her skin. All were new sensations for her. _Wonderful_ sensations.

_Blue_. She found the color and held it in the forefront of her mind, hoping to burn the image there. When she opened her eyes, her entire face lit with a pinkish tone that she had never seen before. Rosemary tilted the mirror towards her, tracing her chin and nose with a finger.

Her hand had changed as well! It held the same pink tone, only it was a little darker. She looked down at her arms, and they were the same color as well.

_I must find out the name of this color_, she thought to herself, returning her attention back to the mirror.

Rosemary held it away from her, examining her body in the reflection. Her waist curved slightly under her tunic, one of the many changes that had started appearing a few years ago. She gazed at her thin, pointed nose, ran her hand across her small lips.

_Red_. The color came to her. Her lips were _red_. And her skin was –

A knock on the door startled her. Rosemary slipped the mirror under her pillow.

"Come in," she said, settling casually on her bed.

The door opened slowly and her mother stepped in, holding a stack of folded garments.

"It is almost time for dinner," she said hoarsely. Rosemary smiled. Her mother was an Instructor of Threes, and was always losing her voice. The Threes were a rowdy bunch until the end of the year, when they finally learned their manners.

"What are you doing now?" Her mother asked, placing the clothing in one of the drawers pushed against the wall. Rosemary shrugged.

"Studying," she lied, feeling the hard mirror press on her back through the pillow.

Her mother looked at her suspiciously. "Well, you had better be down in ten minutes, when your father gets here," she warned, reaching for the door handle. Her mother hesitated and looked at Rosemary. "Did you have a good time today, at training?"

Rosemary returned her mother's gaze and smiled. "It was _excellent_," she said enthusiastically, eager to share some of the things she had learned. She bit her lip. It was against her rules to discuss her training with anyone, including her mother. "It was excellent," she repeated quickly. Her mother smiled and exited the room.

Reaching under her, she pulled the mirror out and held it up to her face once again. Her eyes were still blue, and her skin held their red/pink tones. Underneath her, the covering cloth was light gray, like the kitten in the memory earlier this week. Across the room, the dresser was brown, like the wooden table during the memory of the picnic she'd received just this morning.

Rosemary laughed. She had done it! Colors were hers, and they were here to stay. She would tell Father tomorrow. He would be so proud of her.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Rosemary," Father asked the next morning, "do you remember where we left off?" They were in the Annex, the special training room, where Father worked everyday.

"You were talking to me about what happened with the kitten's mother."

"Ah, yes," Father said, dragging a chair over to the bed on which she sat. He clasped her hands in his own and looked her directly in the eyes. His eyes were blue, like her own.

"I can keep the colors," she blurted out. Father laughed.

"Well, I can see you are going to be a fine Receiver of Memory. It's only been a week since you started training. But I see you can handle the memories splendidly."

"What about the kitten's mother?" Rosemary asked, changing the subject. She knew full well she was being rude. But unlike when she was growing up, her rules allowed her to be rude. And it was only Father. He seemed to love her questions, whether she interrupted him or not.

"Yes, the mother," Father said sadly, shaking his head. "She died shortly after giving birth to the little one."

Rosemary thought for a moment. "Like the Birthmothers?"

"No, the Birthmothers do not die after giving birth. They are relocated, reassigned. It is truly terrible, how the women are treated."

"But why did the kitten's mother die?" Rosemary asked.

"She was hit by a car. _Killed_." Father paused.

Rosemary stared at him blankly. "Father, I have only just learned of these wonderful animals." Rosemary looked away, trying to piece it all together. "The kitten's mother's life was taken from her? Much like Release?"

Father sighed. "Release is an entirely different process. In this community, it is the only way to die. Back then –"

"There were many, many ways to die," Rosemary finished, recalling their previous discussions on the subject. The concept of Release did not bother her, as it seemed to bother Father. She had spent many of her Volunteer hours in the Childcare Center, where a few children had been Released to Elsewhere.

While the physical bodies, she understood, were killed and disposed of, the mind and soul went to Elsewhere, where the person continued to exist. Everyone else believed Elsewhere to be another community. But Father had explained it differently to her when she was growing up.

Even before she had been Selected as the next Receiver of Memory, Rosemary had known things about her world that made her different. Maybe that was why she was so eager to learn from the memories Father gave her.

"I don't understand how you can give me the memories," Rosemary said. "I know you have explained it, but I simply do not understand why you have all of them. And how are you able to pass them onto _me_?"

"_Rosemary_," Father said, suddenly growing impatient, "we have discussed this numerous times. Our people made the decision to go to Sameness long ago. Before me, before the previous Receiver of Memories, back and back and back. They chose to give up everything that made them different, but the differences had to go somewhere."

"So we carry the differences," Rosemary concluded.

"We carry the _memories_, Rosemary," Father corrected. "We carry the memories of the whole world, so no one else has to deal with them."

Immediately, Rosemary understood. Her job was more important than she ever imagined. And her chest filled with pride upon realizing what a great honor it was.

"Can we begin, Father?" She asked, eager to receive more colors.

Father smiled and let go of her hands. "Lay down on the couch, Rosemary," he said, repositioning his chair so that he sat alongside her, not in front of her.

She quickly unbuttoned the top half of her tunic, exposing her shoulders and neck, then leaned face down on the bed. When Father was training, he had taken his entire shirt off. But he did not require her to do so as well, of which she was grateful.

Father placed his warm hands on her skin, squeezing slightly.

"Wait," Rosemary said, rising from her face down position. She stared into Father's light blue eyes, which never seemed to be surprised with anything she said or did. "I know that there are harder memories. The Chief Elder specifically said that there would be pain."

"Rosemary –"

"Please Father," she interrupted, "let me finish. I've enjoyed the picnic, the rainbow, even the kitten." She giggled as the memory worked itself through her mind, the little ball of fur rolling between her fingers. Father's worried face brought her back to the present. "Father," she continued, "I want to receive harder memories. I want to understand what it means to be a Receiver of Memory."

Father closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "Rosemary, this job is very difficult. But we can wait. We don't have to rush any of it. The process can take as long as it needs to take."

"No, Father," she replied, her resolve suddenly growing stronger. She leaned on the bed, burying her face in the covering cloth. "I am ready to receive a difficult memory," she mumbled.

It took a full minute before Father placed his hands on her shoulders. His hands were not as warm as before. They felt moist, almost as though he were sweating. She closed her eyes as the world slipped into black.

She was about to receive her first difficult memory.

The anticipation threatened to burst in her gut.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The scene unfolded slowly before her.

It was the smell that caught her attention first. A musty scent filled her nostrils and she wrinkled her nose. She felt movement underneath her and looked down. Someone held her on their lap, clutching her tightly to their chest. Rosemary breathed in deeply and briefly caught a lavender scent. A woman held her, and she immediately perceived that this woman was her mother.

The woman – her mother – sang softly, stringing together words in a beautiful arrangement. She looked out into the room, but could only see dim shadows and dark shapes. Rosemary nuzzled against the singing woman and felt an overwhelming feeling of acceptance and safety in this woman's arms.

A man with brown hair and dark eyes dropped to the floor beside her, scooping her hand in his. He wrapped the two of them in a warm embrace and held them there. Rosemary smiled. Mother had never held her like this. Neither had Father. It was against the rules to touch anyone outside of the family unit, but there was little need for touching in any situation. Rosemary wondered if, apart from the memories, she could ever experience this feeling of complete satisfaction.

Suddenly, she could hear noises, loud noises. First a thud, then a shout, neither of them from within the room.

Light blinded her eyes as someone kicked in the wooden door. Voices screamed in a language she couldn't understand. The man leapt in front of the light, shouting as shadowy figures pushed through the splintered wood. Rosemary strained to see their metal weapons, helmeted heads, and white lightning bolts stitched onto their costumes.

The intruders brutally shoved the man aside and strode towards her. Her chest constricted as she struggled to breathe. Rosemary knew it was only a memory and that she was in no real harm. But the fear of these men was more real to her than anything had ever been. She clung to the woman who held her, searching for that feeling of safety she had felt before.

One of the intruders grabbed her shoulders and pulled. She screamed and tried to hold on to the woman, but it was no use. The man reached out to her, kicking and punching the person holding her. Suddenly, a loud crack filled the room and the man crumpled to the ground in a spray of red. The woman screamed and launched herself at the intruders, her eyes filled with desperation. Rosemary stretched out her arms to the woman, yelling in a language she could not understand. It was the longing, the fear of separation, the loss of security that compelled her to scream for this woman.

The intruders pulled her out of the room.

Slowly, the memory began to fade away. Rosemary sat up, struggling to breathe.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Why do we have to be the ones?" Rosemary whispered, wrapping her arms across her chest. She felt cold, although the room temperature had not changed. She closed her eyes and saw the intruder with the helmet, a _soldier_, her mind suddenly understood. Her body trembled and she opened her eyes.

Father sat on the bed next to her and gently draped an arm around her shoulder. His body warmed her, and she leaned into him, much like she had leaned into the woman in the memory. She searched for that feeling of safety, for comfort, but could not find it.

"Rosemary," he began slowly, not looking at her, "someone needs to do this. I didn't want to give you any difficult memories. But you insisted. One day, you'll be carrying this alone. If you don't carry this, everyone else has to." He paused and turned to her. "Rosemary, you and I can handle these memories. We have the ability to see beyond. It gives us wisdom that others in this community cannot understand."

She looked away from Father and stared at the bookshelves which lined the walls. Rosemary had never had an interest in reading, but she had been interested in the wisdom that Father said they contained.

"Father, what wisdom did that memory bring?"

"There was a time, not too long ago, that a group of Elders from another community wanted to hold public elections for the Chief Elder."

"But everyone knows that the Chief Elder is assigned," Rosemary interjected. "How could anyone hope to elect one?"

"It was merely a proposition," Father explained. "These particular Elders did not agree with the current selection of Chief Elder. They hoped that the public would make a better choice."

Rosemary was confused. "How does this have to do with –"

"The time of that memory was a terrible one. The people chose the wrong man, an evil man, to lead them. They had to suffer the consequences for that." Father hesitated. "I warned the community against their proposition. I explained that if they allowed the people to make a choice, they might make the wrong choice. The Elders agreed and did not pursue their petition."

"But Father," she said softly, "why did they take the child away?"

Father did not answer her. Rosemary wondered if he simply did not know the answer. She closed her eyes, the image of the soldier burned on her eyelids, his eyes ablaze with rage. She no longer felt safe. Rosemary wanted to experience that feeling of safety, that feeling of complete satisfaction that she had felt in the memory, but she could not recall it.

"Our training session is complete," Father said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You can tell Mother that I will not be joining the two of you for dinner tonight. I will see you in the morning."

Rosemary stood and walked to the door, her mind numb. Her fingers trembled as she tried to twist the doorknob. She couldn't shake the memory of the soldier, pulling her away from her parents, shouting words of hate in a language she never wanted to understand.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

The memory stayed with her for three days. Normally, the memories were so dim that it required intense concentration to recall them. But this memory stayed with her. As she walked to the Annex to resume her training after a hard weekend, Rosemary wondered if she had made the right decision, asking Father to give her that memory.

The Chief Elder had said this would be a painful Assignment. Now, Rosemary knew this to be true. Her hands shook almost constantly. Any small noise startled her. She stayed close to Mother during the day and kept a watchful eye on Father whenever he was home. Rosemary knew that they were not in danger. But she couldn't help but fear that if something did happen, she would be unable to save them.

Father was seated at his desk, a thick book open in front of him. He hadn't noticed her entrance and continued jotting down notes in a small pad next to the book. Rosemary smiled. Father enjoyed studying more than anything else. Growing up, she had never seen Father smiling as much as when he had his nose pressed inside a book. She never asked him what he was reading, though, and he never shared.

Rosemary cleared her throat. Father looked up and grinned at her.

"Well, Rosemary, I was beginning to wonder if you would ever return," he said, standing up to greet her. "The Receiver is never so lucky as to have the weekend off. His Successor shouldn't be so lucky either."

"I needed the time to do some studying," Rosemary lied. "I've been getting behind on my schoolwork lately, and I wanted to catch up."

Father smiled warmly and crossed his arms. "Rosemary, we both know that this is more important than school. Your Assignment is the most important thing about you. There's something else that's bothering you, isn't it?"

"You never let me get away with _anything_," Rosemary said, thrusting out her bottom lip in a mock pout. She stepped over to the bed and sat down. "I was having some trouble with the memory you gave me." She paused and recalled the way she had felt immediately after. "Father, I am ashamed to admit this," she began, looking away from him, "but I feel such _guilt_."

"Rosemary, why do you feel guilt?" Father asked, settling on the bed beside her.

She could feel the tears well up in her eyes, but she willed them to stay inside. "Father, I should be stronger than this. I should be able to handle this duty of mine. No one else has difficulty learning their Assignments. Why does it bring me great distress?"

"My daughter, don't feel guilty. You are only Receiver in Training. You cannot expect to be able to handle everything that I can handle. I have been Receiver for a great many years before you were born." Father paused and slipped his hand into hers. She looked down at his weathered hands. He was much older than the other children's parents, but, in her opinion, more competent. "Rosemary, you are not like the other children. You are not like anyone else in this community. You are not even like me."

Rosemary looked up, startled. "What do you mean by that?" She asked, searching his eyes for an answer.

Father smiled. "Rosemary, you were selected as the next Receiver because of your capacity to see beyond. Every Receiver must have this ability, as it enables them to carry the memories. Yours is not entirely complete, but the process began when you first noticed color."

"I remember that day," Rosemary acknowledged. Her mind flashed to that day, so many years ago, when she noticed a change in the flowers along the river. She could not describe it, and she did not see it everyday, but the change had already occurred.

"Yes, I remember that day as well," Father said, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "I had been so proud of you. But it did not happen to me the same way."

"You did not see color?"

"No," Father said, shaking his head. He squeezed her hand and leaned closer to her. "I heard music."

Rosemary stared at him blankly. "Music?"

"Yes, music." Father leapt to his feet and dragged the chair from his desk over to the bed.

"Would you like to hear it?"

Rosemary thought for a moment. Father was clearly excited by this music. Whatever it was, there was no way it could compare to the devastation she felt from the previous memory. In fact, it might even help alleviate some of the pain she was feeling. She was not allowed to ask for medication – it was in her rules – but pleasant memories had always made her feel better inside.

She began to unbutton her tunic.

"Let's hear it."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

At first, Rosemary wasn't sure if it had been a dream.

Sometimes, when Father was transferring a memory to her, she became so immersed in it that she wasn't aware of her consciousness. When she awoke it took her several moments to piece together what had actually happened. Her dreams at night were never as vivid as the memories, though, which was why she was confused about this particular dream.

Sitting on her bed, Rosemary closed her eyes and tried to remember. Fragments clung to her mind and she reached for them. Suddenly, she was in the dream again. It played for her as vividly as a memory.

She held the mirror in her hand, studying her face. Rosemary gasped. The colors in her eyes and face were gone! She rubbed the mirror against her tunic sleeve. But the color did not return. She glanced at her hand. There it was! The red tone in her flesh. But where had it gone? Why couldn't she see it in the mirror?

Rosemary looked around. She was not in her bedroom but standing beside the River that encircled the Community. Food was delivered to them from boats that traveled to other Communities. Occasionally, an Eight or Nine would sit inside the water, pretending to swim, until chastised by their Instructors. The water lapped against the river bank, moving with the current.

She looked down at her feet. They were uncovered and submerged in the cool liquid. The water was dark blue, although she could see the brown rocks through the water near the edge. Rosemary smiled. The mirror might not work, but she could still see color.

A sudden desire to walk deeper into the water came upon her. Rosemary glanced behind her, where the Community sat, everyone about their own business, not noticing her. She looked back at the River. It seemed to call out to her, to beg her to walk into its depths.

She took a step forward, and the water rose above her calves. She hefted the bottom of her tunic to keep it dry, but it was already soaked. Rosemary shivered as the cold ran through her body. She clenched her teeth and stepped deeper.

In an instant, she was off her feet and flowing with the current. She opened her mouth to scream but swallowed a mouthful of water. Flailing wildly, she tried to keep herself afloat. As her head dipped below the River, she saw the Community, drifting further and further from her. It looked like Father was standing at the River's edge, arms crossed, angry with her. Then, he disappeared, along with the Community.

Rosemary struggled to stay above water. Fear seized her, and she felt panic. A few yards away, she saw a large rock, drawing close to her. She tried to push away from the rock but could barely control herself. Her fingers remembered the mirror and she held it up. Hopefully, the mirror would serve as a barrier between herself and the rock. She doubted it, but held it up anyway.

The rock drew closer and she began to suck in water with huge breaths. She began to shake violently and watched as her world grew dim. With her final strength, she held up the mirror as the rock collided with her body.

Suddenly, she stood on the river bank. Rosemary looked down at her clothing. It was not wet. She breathed deeply and sucked air into her lungs. Rosemary looked at the River, and it stood calmly beside her.

_The mirror saved my life_, she thought, piecing it together. Rosemary glanced at the mirror in her hands. She frowned.

The glass was broken. Her distorted reflection stared back at her.

In it, her eyes were blue.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Rosemary did not tell Father about the dream.

That day, during training, Father shared with her a nice memory.

The room in the memory was small and crowded, but filled with happiness. At least a dozen people sat gathered around a long table, all of them laughing and smiling. An older couple sat closest to her, looking on at everyone with small, contented smiles. A feeling of warmth filled the room as food was passed around the table. Rosemary felt something she could not describe - was it _safety_? In the other memory, she had felt the same thing, but there was no fear here. She settled on the feeling of satisfaction and comfort.

_Love_. The word came to her. This strong feeling was _love_. And she knew now what Father meant when he said that he loved her. Growing up, she had been taught that love was a generalized term, one without any real meaning. It was more precise to say you enjoyed someone, or were proud of them. Love was a term that no one used anymore. But Rosemary knew that love was something no one _felt_ anymore. Until she received this memory, she hadn't felt it either.

As much as she enjoyed the memory, it did nothing to take away the ache inside of her. Her first troubling memory had had love in it as well, even though she couldn't name it. But love was not strong enough to stop those men from stealing the woman's child. Love wasn't strong enough to stop them from killing the man, the husband, the father. Love wasn't strong enough to comfort her, to remove her fear.

"Father," she said tentatively, not looking at him. "I know that you do not want to give me hard memories."

"Rosemary, there is a time for them. But not now."

"Please, Father!" Rosemary raised her voice, suddenly growing impatient. She sighed and shook her head. "I am not a child anymore. This is my responsibility. All of the other Twelves are training for their Assignments and they are learning everything that pertains to it. Why should I be any different?"

"Because you _are_ different. Don't you see? That is the reason why you were selected as the next Receiver. You can do what no other Twelves can. You can see beyond."

Rosemary glared at him. "Father, I do not wish for you to continue holding back. I want you to give me the hard memories. _Painful_ ones. They are my responsibility."

Father sighed and crossed his arms. "Why do you want pain, Rosemary?"

She closed her eyes. _Why do you want pain_? She wasn't sure if she could answer the question. Rosemary thought about pain. She'd crushed her toe in a door once. The pain from the injury had been staggering. Her mind had not focused on anything other than the pain.

"More pain should take my mind off the fear," she mumbled.

Father didn't seem to hear her. He placed his hands on her bare shoulders.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

It was the feeling of uncertainty that hit her first. In the memory, she saw a little boy crawling on a dirty carpet. A woman who she perceived to be his mother sat on a chair in the next room, crumpling papers in her hands. The little boy suddenly ran over to the woman, clutching his stomach, crying for food. The woman looked at the little boy, tears filling her eyes. She opened cabinet after cabinet, all of them empty. She scooped the young child in her arms and held him close.

Rosemary began to cry. Someone needed to give the little boy some food! Suddenly, she felt a gnawing in her gut. Instantly, she perceived this as hunger. _Starvation_. She dropped to the floor. This family lived in a home. Why, then, did they not have food? The walls around them were bare, dripping instead with false hopes and desires. Rosemary longed to get out, she longed to be something greater, but knew she had no power to do so. She wanted to bring these people with her to the Community, where they wouldn't have to live like this.

But Rosemary knew it was impossible. She could do nothing to change the memories. That was not her purpose. She was here only to learn from them. But what could she learn from this? What could she learn from feeling herself waste away from the inside? What could she learn from the uncertainty of not knowing where her next meal was going to come from? What good were these memories if she couldn't learn from them?

She shut her mind out of the memories. Father looked at her, startled.

"How did you stop it?" He asked.

She didn't answer. Instead, she buttoned her tunic and excused herself from his presence.

She wanted to be alone. She needed to weep.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

"We are going to learn about a period in History today." The Instructor stood in front of the room, arms crossed. Attendance to school usually died down a few months after the Twelves received their Assignments. It had only been four weeks since the Ceremony, but already many had stopped coming. Rosemary herself had returned for the first time since her Assignment.

Father did not agree with her decision to go. She did not expect him to. After all, he carried all the memories of the world. He knew how to deal with the pain. With the fear. Rosemary didn't though. She didn't know how to keep it at bay. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that little boy dying in his mother's arms, dying because he couldn't find anything to eat. She didn't understand the memory. But it was not her place to. Instead, she tried to forget it.

Going to school was supposed to do the trick. Father wouldn't let her miss anymore days of training, but he couldn't stop her from going to school instead.

"During this time, the world experienced a famine." The Instructor paused and lifted the book from his desk, flipping through the pages. "They starved to death because they were animals. They wasted all their resources on pleasures that didn't last. And then they turned on each other, just like animals." The Instructor smiled. "Aren't you all glad we have enough so we don't have to live like animals?"

The class erupted into laughter. But not Rosemary. Unlike the others, she knew that animals were not wild people. She knew animals were kittens, dogs, birds. Most importantly, Rosemary knew that the little boy starving to death was not an animal.

Rosemary stood.

"Instructor, what do you know about starvation?"

"Excuse me, Rosemary - "

"What do you know about the emptiness inside of your stomach, scratching at your insides, begging you to fill it? What do you know about watching your little brother scream because his body is eating itself from within?" She knew she should stop, but she couldn't. Words were coming to her, descriptions of the memory that she'd been unwilling to acknowledge. "What do you know of the desperation, the longing, that comes with it? What do you know about wanting to get out of it so badly, you are willing to do whatever it takes?" Rosemary pointed at the Instructor angrily. "You don't know anything about it. I suggest you learn about it before you tell everyone your lies."

She sat down, fists clenched, body shaking.

"Rosemary, I'd like to talk with you outside." Without waiting for her reply, the Instructor stepped out of the classroom. She sighed, willing herself to calm down. Then she followed him out.

"I don't understand what gives you the right to say any of that," he began, crossing his arms and not looking at her. "I am well qualified for my Assignment, and I have been serving faithfully for twenty years."

"You don't know the truth," she mumbled. He stared at her.

"Do you think we are blind, Rosemary?" The Instructor shook his head. "We know about your Assignment, Rosemary. We may not physically experience it, but we know full well about it. And we know why we gave it up. I will not have you speaking out against the system we have worked so hard to build."

"I was not speaking out against it," she said defensively. "I was just telling you - "

"You are unauthorized to speak of your training, Rosemary." The Instructor reached for the doorknob of the classroom. "If you continue to speak out of line, you will be released."

With that, he pulled open the classroom door, stepped through, and slammed it shut behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

The mirror was cold in her hand. She had not looked into it since the dream earlier this week. As she tilted it in her hands, she stared at her reflection. Everything was the same. The color in her eyes, in her flesh. Her brown hair was a bit messier than usual.

A shout from the street startled her. Her bedroom window faced the open road, and she stepped over to it.

It was Abigail, an Eleven, who used to volunteer at the Childcare Center with her. The younger girl ran past with another girl, both laughing and teasing each other. Rosemary watched as they traveled along the road, hand in hand, swinging their arms in unison. The girls looked the same, from their neat hairstyles to their sparkling clean shoes. Everything seemed so simple for them.

Rosemary turned away from the window and looked at the mirror in her hands. Her life was not simple. She would forever be different. She would never be able to go to school again. The lies that they propagated were far too great for her to ignore.

_Once you know the truth, how can you go back_?

She ran a hand through her messy hair. Suddenly, the brown color flickered and returned to the non-distinct shade she had seen her whole life. Rosemary blinked, and the color returned.

"What is wrong?" She mumbled under her breath.

The idea came to her then. Rosemary dropped the mirror onto the ground. She didn't have to be different. She could be like everyone else. All she had to do was give the memories back to Father. She could simply refuse her Assignment as the next Receiver and get another job. It was the memories alone that made her different. When she gave them back to Father, she would never have to deal with them again. It didn't matter that this was her responsibility. She still had a choice. Like the Community, she could still choose Sameness.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

"Elsewhere?" Father looked at her strangely. "We've talked about Elsewhere before, haven't we? What more is there to know?"

She had run over to the Annex almost immediately. But she hadn't told him about her decision yet. On her way here, someone had mentioned a Ceremony of Release taking place in the House of Old. Rosemary knew the Old would be released into Elsewhere, but she was curious about it. Father didn't seem to like her question, though.

"I wanted to know what it's like," she said, carefully sitting on a wooden chair by Father's desk. He folded his hands.

"Well, we have already discussed the separation between body and mind. When it is time for you to go to Elsewhere, you will learn all that you need to know."

"But are there memories there?"

"Memories?" Father wrinkled his brow. "I would hope so," he replied. "I would think that Elsewhere is perfect. In my opinion, you can't have true perfection unless you have memories."

"But the memories aren't perfection," Rosemary interjected. "That little kid being stolen, the baby starving - how is that perfection?"

Father sighed. "The memories bring knowledge and wisdom, Rosemary. But not everyone can handle it. Remember what I told you after the memory with the child and its parents? The people had made the wrong choice. They put an evil man in power. What we have here in this Community is perfection. You may not like it. I may not like it. But it is the best that we have."

Rosemary closed her eyes. "In Elsewhere, would the memories hurt?"

Father laughed. "Of course not. They hurt because we aren't used to them. And we don't have enough good memories to counter-balance the bad ones. But in Elsewhere, I'm sure everyone would have the memories. Everyone would have the strength to make the right choices. Everyone will have wisdom and knowledge."

Rosemary smiled. She stood from her chair.

"Father, I can't stay. There is something I must do."

"Make sure you return tomorrow," he said sternly. "You have missed far too many training sessions, Rosemary, and you haven't even been at this for more than a month."

Rosemary laughed. "Of course I'll be back, Father."

She turned away from him. She would tell him about her decision to give up her memories tomorrow.

There was one thing she needed to do first.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

The River was calm again. Rosemary wondered why she expected it to be otherwise. The dream still haunted her at night, but she had somehow managed to ignore it. The starving boy revisited her often, begging her for food. Ever since that day, she kept a close eye on the food supply in the cabinets. Whenever anything ran out, Deliverers brought more. But she always watched it, in fear that they might not catch the dwindling supply in time. She may not be able to change the past memory, but she could protect her future.

Rosemary looked down at the mirror in her hand. This was the reason for her trip to the River tonight. She bent to pick up a rock from the ground. It took a full minute for her to find one large enough to suit her needs. When she found one, she clenched her fingers around it tightly.

_I am done being different_, she told herself, angling the rock with the mirror. With a sudden burst of strength, she slammed the rock into the glass. Bits and pieces dropped to the ground at her feet. Rosemary breathed deeply. She realized that she had been holding her breath.

She closed her eyes and tossed the broken mirror into the River, listening for the splash. She grinned. Already, the weight of the memories had lifted from her chest. The starving boy was far from her mind, the fear of uncertainty gone from her. She knew it existed, somewhere out there, but she couldn't cling to it as before.

Rosemary felt a laugh rise from within her and she set it free, jumping and running back and forth along the River bank.

She was _free_!

The ground crunched underfoot, interrupting her joyous celebration. A large chunk of glass had remained intact. Rosemary bent to pick it up, wiping off dirt and tiny rocks. She looked into her reflection. The color was gone. No longer did her face shine with the red tone. Gone was the brown from her hair. Her eyes, although still pale, were no longer blue.

_The colors are gone_, she thought, smiling. They were _gone_.

Suddenly, there was a flicker. Rosemary closed her eyes. She did not want to believe it. She did not want to acknowledge the flicker. It was merely a figment of her imagination. She was remembering the colors, but she didn't have them anymore. Rosemary slowly opened her eyes.

They were _blue_!

A whimper escaped from her lips.

"No," she whispered. "No, no, no!"

Brown returned to her hair. Flesh tone returned to her skin. The colors were here to stay.

Sobbing, Rosemary collapsed onto the ground. She let the cries out, not caring if anyone heard, not caring if anyone noticed.

The colors were here to stay. She could will them away. She could try to forget them. She could even give them back to Father. But Rosemary was different. She had the power to see beyond. It had not been her choice. But it was forever a part of her.

Rosemary screamed and kicked the glass pieces into the River. It made no difference. Her reflection in any mirror would always be colored.

_Different_.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Her family unit did not know of her decision.

"Right this way," the young attendant said, gesturing to the open door. Rosemary smiled at him and stepped into the room. She didn't remember his name, but he had received his Assignment a year ago. They had played together in the schoolyard often, although Rosemary was sure he didn't remember her name either.

It did not matter. His Assignment was only to prepare the room for the Ceremony of Release. But she wasn't here for a Ceremony. Citizens who applied for Release did not get a Ceremony.

"If you will just wait here a moment, Rosemary, we will be right with you."

The door shut behind him, leaving her alone in the cold, white room.

_So he did remember my name_.

More likely he read it off her Request Form. Rosemary closed her eyes and rubbed her arms.

She knew full well what she was doing. This was the only way that she would be able to escape the pain. In Elsewhere, she would be different. She would be able to handle the knowledge and wisdom that came with the memories. And everyone there would be just like her. Sameness would be hers once more.

Father's face immediately came to mind. Her heart ached for him, and she realized that she loved him.

But Father couldn't help her with her pain. Father had given her the pain. Father had chosen her as his Successor. He could have taught her how to handle the memories. _He_ never had a problem with them. Why hadn't he shown her how to handle the fear?

An older man entered the room with the attendant close behind. The man didn't look at her and he set a small box on the table in front of her.

"This will only take a minute," he explained, breaking the plastic seal around the box. "A little pinch in the beginning, but no pain after that."

The man opened the box and pulled out a syringe filled with transparent liquid. The man gestured for Rosemary to hold out her hand.

"Roll up your sleeve, please."

"Wait," she said, pulling her hand back. "I know this process. I've worked in the Childcare Center, where they release twins or kids that don't develop correctly." She swallowed. "I would prefer to inject myself."

"I don't think - "

"Give it to me!" She yelled, reaching out her hand. The man was shocked by her display of rudeness, but he handed it to her. He glanced at the Attendant, and the two of them left the room.

Rosemary looked at the syringe in her hand. It wouldn't take much to find a vein and begin the process. She had seen it done before.

_What if Elsewhere isn't what you think it is?_

She refused to let the thought settle. Rosemary rolled up the sleeve of her tunic and punctured the vein in the crook of her elbow.

Immediately, she felt a change. Her body tightened and the room began to grow dim.

The tiny kitten burst into her mind. She felt it rolling in her hands, licking her fingers. Then it was gone.

She saw the rainbow, felt the damp grass beneath her feet. The colors began to disappear from the rainbow and the grass dried up. Then it was gone.

A feeling of fear washed over her as a memory worked itself to the surface. She willed it to remain, refusing to think on it.

Rosemary saw the woman, holding her child. The door crashed in and the soldiers shouted at them. Terror overtook her. Then, it was gone.

Her body began to shake violently. Her chest tightened as she struggled to breathe. The little boy crawling on the floor, screaming for food, wasting away in poverty, flashed through her mind. Then, it was gone.

The room shifted and Rosemary slid onto the floor. Her back slammed against the chair and she rolled onto her stomach. One by one, the memories she had received from Father surface. And then they were gone.

_Father_.

His face flashed in her mind. The memory she had been trying to hold on to came to her mind. Try as she might, it would not stay.

She visited Father at the Annex during the night. He had been surprised to see her. Rosemary asked him for a happy memory, one of his favorites. He shared with her another music memory, and it was wonderful. They sang and danced for hours, laughing whenever they tried to hit the impossible high notes.

Rosemary had managed to forget, for a few moments, the pain she had carried in with her. When she danced with Father and talked about her bizarre antics as a Seven, she felt like a normal Twelve. But when she looked around the room, she knew that she would never be normal again.

Not in this Community.

Rosemary held the memory in the forefront of her mind, replaying the song Father had shared with her over and over. She felt the love in his gaze, felt it in her lips kissing his cheek, in her body pressed against his in an embrace.

And then, it was gone.


End file.
